


calm me down

by meshizuru



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Aphrodisiacs, Despair Era (Dangan Ronpa), Komaeda Nagito As The Servant, Light Bondage, M/M, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, despairing over a gag lmao, light petplay almost?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:40:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25161025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meshizuru/pseuds/meshizuru
Summary: “What did you do this time?”“Talked,” Servant says simply, his voice coming out hoarse and choked. He has drool on his chin, and feels entirely undignified and disgusting in Kamukura’s presence. He wishes he could wipe it off, but his wrists are still bound tightly by rope. “You know they don’t like me very much. It’s why I do things alone.”---aka kamukura realizes that servant's not gonna really feel punished unless he treated him the opposite of how he wants: with softness, care, and love.part of the komahina kink exchange in jabbercock island. for sinfulwonders on tumblr.
Relationships: Kamukura Izuru/Komaeda Nagito
Comments: 17
Kudos: 399
Collections: Komahina_Kink_Exchange





	calm me down

The room isn’t even lit. Servant can’t see properly, and it’s no help, since he isn’t even aware of where he is. The others had the decency to remove his blindfold when they left him, but not the gag tied around his jaw. The inability to speak and the discomfort of the rag pulling at his lip is making him feel a fleeting panic, one he can’t place exactly, but it’s dizzying. He can’t _scream_ , can’t ask for help, and all he wants is the gag off. The binds on his wrists and ankles are less of an issue until paired with a bothersome _gag_ , and now he feels like he’s _remembering things_ , things that are in a different life now, and yet still, still they tear at his chest and make him _ache_ —

He’s started shaking on the rough wooden floor by now, and he trembles violently with a cackle stuck in his throat, muffled by the gag. His vision goes unfocused as his eyes swirl darkly and go wet with tears, staring up at the dark ceiling as he thrashes around, trying to get _free_. He feels off-kilter, like the world is swaying and dizzying, like static is running through his veins instead of blood, and he realizes it: he’s not only panicking, but he’s despairing. It makes him laugh harder, out of pain, maybe pleasure, and he kicks his bound legs blindly into the darkness.

They hit something sturdy. It’s not wood, metal, or anything he expected it would be. He’s in some kind of house, he figures, so he expected to eventually find abandoned, desolate furniture, but this doesn’t feel like that. Unfortunately, he can’t see beyond a few inches in front of his face, so all he can do is press his foot against it and try to guess what it is. A cabinet, maybe? No, it’s not that wide, and there’s some sort of indent between what feels like small pillars...he prods the toes of his shoes against it insistently, and—

“Stop that.”

Servant freezes up, his eyes going wide as he stares up at the darkness ahead of him, where a _voice_ just came from. A voice he recognized perfectly well. And he realized, he’d been kicking at that certain man’s pair of legs trying to figure out what it was.

He makes a muffled noise through his gag, what’s meant to be the man’s surname, but it comes out like a garbled mumble with no meaning. 

“They gagged you,” the voice comes out flat, emotionless, despite it possibly being a question. A face leans into Servant’s view, obscured by long hair that dissolves into the darkness of the room, barely able to see the outlines of his face. 

Servant draws his brows in, and nods, despite being unsure if the other can even see him properly, and makes a quiet noise of affirmation behind the gag.

Kamukura remains silent and stares at him for a long, drawn-out moment, saying nothing before drawing back so he’s obscured from view again. Servant panics slightly at this, fighting against his binds to no avail, but immediately goes still and silent again when he hears a scrape, and light erupts from a small flame above him. The flame moves, and light bounces off the curves of Kamukura’s face in the dark, before he places it over something. A candle. One by one, he lights up enough to bring a dim light throughout the room. He realizes he’s in a worn-down bedroom, seated cruelly next to a bed while forced to endure the pain of rough flooring beneath him.

It’s dead silent, still. Servant feels uneasy, and squirms where he lays, desperately wanting to be _free_ , but stops when Kamukura leans down and places a hand beneath his shoulders, bringing him to sit. The man’s touch is enough to wash some serenity over him, and he relaxes. Kamukura props him up with that arm, the other reaching behind his head to easily undo the gag. He tosses the drool-soaked fabric aside and looks at him uninterestedly.

“What did you do this time?”

“Talked,” Servant says simply, his voice coming out hoarse and choked. He has drool on his chin, and feels entirely undignified and disgusting in Kamukura’s presence. He wishes he could wipe it off, but his wrists are still bound tightly by rope. “You know they don’t like me very much. It’s why I do things alone.”

Kamukura pinches him by the chin, tilting his face up and directing his eyes to meet his own piercing red ones. He presses his fingertips soothingly into the joints of his jaw, rubbing gently and making Servant’s mouth go lax, easing the soreness from being gagged. “You don’t know how to stop running your mouth,” he says, swiping his thumb over the drool staining his chin. “Despite it being for your own good.”

Servant wants to grimace on Kamukura’s behalf, knowing he’d just subjected himself to touching his disgusting drool, but he didn’t say anything about it. He knew it would be more trouble than it’s worth, and not the enjoyable kind.

“I’m sorry. But if they can’t handle someone as worthless as me being a nuisance, then...I worry if they’re truly fit to spread despair properly. I can’t let the missions go down in vain, you know. I care too deeply about my classmates to let them ruin themselves.”

Kamukura’s brows pinch inward just enough to be noticeable, a minute change in expression. Servant couldn’t tell if it was irritation, or if he was attempting to understand his words quickly. His intentions.

He lets his chin go, and draws back, resting on his haunches. 

“You never learn.”

Servant sighs deeply, hanging his head low in mock repentance. He shifts forward, trying to keep himself upright without Kamukura’s help, but his arms are still tied behind his back. It’s difficult to move, even a little.

“I’ve told you...I’m really worthless,” he pouts, though there was _no_ regret in his expression. The only amount of tangible shame was the same in a dog that was only upset it got caught, not ashamed of what it had done. “You shouldn’t expect anything of me, Kamukura-sama...it will only lead to disappointment, and I would hate myself if I disappointed you.”

“Yet you do it anyway.”

Servant tips his head up, his eyes looking wide through his lashes, docile and innocent. It was entirely unbefitting. He opens his mouth to speak, but as he does, a _feeling_ shoots up his spine in the form of a shiver, and he snaps his lips shut with a gasp. 

Suddenly, heat crawls up every inch of his skin, and his clothes felt unbearable to be in. So he _whines_ abruptly, low in his throat and squirming in place, fighting against his restraints. He wants to be out of his clothes immediately, and he wants to be out of his binds, he wants to touch the man before him, to be touched, and oh _god_ , all that heat shot straight down south, and—

His face flushes pink and his breathing goes unsteady. Kamukura tilts his head at the sight before him, and reaches out to touch him, cupping his face, and Servant feels something _snap_ in him. He moans, audibly, high in pitch and desperate, nuzzling against Kamukura’s hand, begging in incoherent mumbles. For what, he didn’t know, but he was trying to lean forward, get closer to Kamukura in any way possible.

“You’re aroused,” Kamukura says simply, expression unwavering despite the sight before him.

“Nn _no_ ,” Servant tries to protest, shaking his head, making his wild hair go even messier and fall into his face. In response, Kamukura, smoothes his palm up past his cheekbone, pushing his fingers to thread between his hair. He takes hold there, and tugs gently enough to not hurt, really, but enough to elicit something out of Servant. 

And it succeeds. The noise he makes is pathetic, a whimper on his lips as he nearly fell backwards trying to chase the motion of Kamukura’s hand. The other caught him with his adjacent arm, of course, and righted him, but this meant he was touching him even more now, and even _closer_.

“Kamukura-sama,” Servant pleads, his head starting to feel dizzy with something. Something. What was going on with him? Was he sick? He _feels_ sick, feels like he’s running a fever all of a sudden, sweat dampening his forehead, and his three layers of clothes are suddenly a sauna. His already tight jeans feel incredibly constricting, and he bucks upward into the air as if that would help. “I-I...hhh…”

Kamukura’s lips purse, and he looks him over. 

“You’re unaware of why you’re aroused,” he observes, and gives a short pause. “Is it possible you’ve been drugged?”

“Wh-Wha…huh...?”

Kamukura gently lays Servant down again, letting him writhe on the floor as he stands up again. Once again, the white-haired boy whines, wanting to be freed, and given some reprieve, but Kamukura turns toward the doorway.

“I can retrieve something that will reverse the effects.”

That makes Servant want to scream. His voice cracks on a yell. “N _oo_!” He squirms onto his side, trying to get up again. It’s not working. “No, noo, Kamukura-sama, nooo…!”

Kamukura stops and waits.

“Pl- _ease_ ,” Servant begs, his voice fracturing in desperation. “The others want you to punish me, you know? So you can’t just leave me here…”

Kamukura looks at him over his shoulder.

“That’s,” he breathes, licks his lips. “Probably why they did this to me.” He digs his heels into the wooden floorboards, thighs forcibly pressed together. He wishes he could spread his legs, so so badly.

It’s the truth. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been waiting alone in this empty house, but he wagers it was under an hour. And when he’d been brought here, he now recalls that one of them had slipped his gag off for mere a second, just to put _something_ in his mouth. He half expected it to be a cyanide pill, honestly, given how angry they were this time, but…

“The others drugged you. I see. That makes sense,” Kamukura said, facing him once again. “However, why should I punish you? You learn nothing from it, no matter how many times I do so.”

Kamukura isn’t wrong. There’s a reason the others left him here like this. A relationship had formed between the two, and it was obvious to anyone with eyes and a brain that Servant was madly in love with Kamukura, that he devoted himself to him entirely. It had taken some convincing, but their relationship had become _something_. There was no label to put on it, really. Servant could misbehave, and he’d end up in the Ultimate Hope’s lap to get punished. Sometimes, he’d let him sleep in the same bed as him, maybe even let him kiss and cuddle him. And, more often than not, Kamukura let him accompany him most places, on most missions. But Servant assumed he was nothing more than a nuisance to him, just a nosy puppy on a leash.

It could never be anything more than that. Right? It would be wishful thinking to assume otherwise. Servant was just a selfish little parasite that Kamukura was tolerating because dealing with a pest was probably less boring than doing nothing at all.

“Because…” he tries to rack his brain for an actual good reason. There doesn’t seem to be any. “...you must be annoyed with me, right? You want to hurt me a lot, right? To make me feel pain, because I keep c-causing trouble...I wouldn’t blame you, Kamukura-sama. So please...punish me, for the sake of the others!”

Kamukura regards him with that same emotionless stare, looking down upon him with something that could almost be disdain. It doesn’t approximate much other than _nothingness_ , and he keeps that vacant look on him before he eventually narrows his eyes.

“Fine.”

Servant throws his head back in elation, laughter bubbling up his throw as he thrashes on the ground. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…” He’s so lucky, so grateful. Kamukura is far above him, far too good for him, but when he hurts him, when he treats him mercilessly and makes him feel _pain_ , abuses him and treats him like filth, Servant can’t contain himself. It’s all he wants, all he needs, and all he deserves.

"But you will contain yourself. Stop writhing and crying," Kamukura tells him, and Servant feels like crying from how difficult that will be, but he nods, and mumbles as " _yessir_ ".

He bends down, and Servant thinks he’s going to pick him up, maybe. But instead, he goes for his ankles, and takes hold of the ropes there, quickly unknotting them with precise, quick fingers. He sets the rope aside in a spool and doesn’t touch him any further, just watches as Servant spreads his legs, stretching them out after feeling cramped for so long. 

Servant looks up at him from where he lies, able to at least arch his back now, and he does so despite how much he’s trembling. He makes an impatient, needy noise at him, his hips thrusting upward in the air. 

“Use your words.”

“My pants...please...so tight…” Servant manages out, his head starting to feel like it’s clouded, full of static, and all he can focus on is everything _physical_ , wanting to touch and be touched. There’s hardly any coherent thought, except for pure, unbridled lust that’s swamping his brain. Kamukura takes mercy on him, leaning over his form and smoothing a hand between his legs, up to his thigh, before taking Servant’s tight black jeans into his hands; his eyes remain on Servant’s face, portraying no emotion as he blindly yet perfectly snaps the button on his trousers open and undoes the fly. He tugs it down his thighs, all the way until Servant can kick his legs out, and quickly discards the garment.

There’s a very obvious tent in his gray and white boxers, and Servant spreads his legs more widely without the added constriction, arching his knees and planting his feet on either side of Kamukura. He looks up at him expectantly, his chest rising and falling with his labored breathing. The dark-haired man instead smoothes a hand up his belly, pushing the hem of his sweater and undershirt upward, which makes Servant involuntarily whine. 

"Would you like these off as well?"

With an eager nod, Servant murmurs a "please", and Kamukura moves to sit the poor man up; he reaches around him to undo the binds on his wrists, to which Servant feels some disappointment, and helps him shrug his jacket, sweater, and oversized shirt off. The garments are discarded carelessly, and Servant feels the urge to crawl over and start folding them up neatly.

His thoughts about carefully tidying up the mess are not meant to last, not when his cock is hard and twitching in his boxers, but they're especially cut short when his wrists are grabbed, and before he can even think to protest, they've been tied up in front of him with the same tight, rough rope. Servant flicks his eyes up to see Kamukura finishing up the knot, before resting back on his haunches. Red eyes regard him with curiosity, and after a beat of silence, his God speaks.

"Is there a problem?"

Servant falls out of his stunned silence after a moment, and shakes his head wildly. "No, no, no," he responds frantically, a shiver running through him at the realization _Kamukura_ tied him up, this time. Not the others, but Kamukura out of...something? “There’s _never_ a problem. Not with you, Kamukura-sama.” The rope is less uncomfortable now, and tied in his front so as not to restrict his mobility and strain his shoulders—as if Kamukura had done so with his comfort, his wellbeing in mind. Servant has to hold back a laugh at the idea, imagining Kamukura would care about a wretch like him.

His words aren’t regarded with much past a grunt in acknowledgment, so quiet that Servant briefly thinks he kid himself into hearing it. Then, he stands up, towering over the white-haired boy who still rests on the floor pathetically, in nothing but his boxers and a metal collar, locked onto his neck and a chain hanging down his frame.

Kamukura steps past him, toward the bed that’s dimly lit, and sits. His legs spread slightly, a detail that Servant can’t help but notice in all his greediness, and he already knows what he wants to do—

“On your knees.”

The command is simple, though proves a bit of a challenge with his arms tied; Servant immediately obeys his master, and rolls over onto his stomach, using his bound forearms as leverage to get himself up on his knees, before raising his upper half upright to face Kamukura.

“Come.” With a short beckon motion, Kamukura raises his fingers and gives him an expectant look—if his stagnant gaze can be considered anything at all. The long bit of hair that split his face slid to the side as he cocked his head, obscuring part of his eye, but Servant could still _feel_ his penetrating gaze.

It’s difficult like this, but Servant clamors his way over, crawling on his knees and bound arms, until he can situate himself between Kamukura’s spread legs. The man reaches down and takes the cold steel of his chain in his palm, leading him upward to look him in the eye.

“Good boy.”

A full-body shiver shoots through him at the affection, the praise, and he leans against the bed, his bound hands hanging between his own legs where they kneel. In response, Kamukura raises his other hand and cards fingers through Servant’s soft, white hair, petting at him affectionately. It brings a small, needy noise from his lips, and he leans into the touch. The aphrodisiac coursing through him is enough to make this simple touch feel exhilarating—more than it already did, from Kamukura. 

"If you want to repent," Kamukura begins, maintaining that monotonous tone. "Then I suggest you do so already. The more you wait, the less I feel inclined to believe you feel remorse worth forgiving, Servant." After speaking, he widens his sitting stance, legs spreading just a bit more to let him relax backward, long strands of ebony flowing over the dusty bedsheets and pooling in sections on the floor by his feet. Kamukura is beautiful, divinely so, no matter how he views him, but Servant has always felt he looked best when viewed like this—from below, his chin tipped back and a scornful gaze down his nose, while he himself is on his knees in worship.

Though his admiration is not forgotten, it’s secondary to the lust he feels, overwhelming and numbing his thoughts and senses, and the driving need to please, to pay penance and obey every word uttered by Kamukura. But two unfortunate articles of clothing were keeping him from his goal.

"H-How can I...my hands are tied, sir, I can't—"

"You can. Do not give up so easily, surely you have realized how else to get to it." The hand in his hair falls, trailing down the side of his face, fingertips caressing the skin with a soft tickle until they reach his lips. His thumb pushes between them, already parted, enough to make contact with his teeth, until he drags his bottom lip downward. 

Servant got the hint. His mouth waters just from the mere thought of what he wants to do, but he swallows it down thickly, trying to avoid making a disgusting, drooly mess of Kamukura's pants. Leaning forward, he presses his face up against the man's crotch, feeling blindly for the zipper with his mouth. He can feel his cock hardening in his pants, though clearly not in as desperate of a state as Servant. 

Nosing at him, he eventually finds the clasp, and sinks his teeth into the fabric, tugging on it, until the button snaps out of place and frees the zipper—he glances up, and finds Kamukura watching him with an expression that makes him seem utterly bored. Impatient, even. Not wanting to leave him waiting, he dips back down and scrapes his teeth uselessly at the fly, until he can take the zipper between his teeth and tug it down hurriedly.

Kamukura’s hand returns to the mass of white fluff atop his head, stroking through it in encouragement, a silent praise for his hard work. When Servant doesn’t immediately go for his boxers, too busy staring up at Kamukura lovingly while his head is pet, the dark-haired man raises his brows at him in questioning. 

"Sorry, sir," Servant breathes, and presses his open mouth over the imprint in his boxers, the flat of his tongue wetting the fabric. Kamukura makes a gruff noise in his throat and tugs impatiently at his hair, eliciting a throaty noise from Servant. He pulls back, traveling upward to the hem of his boxers. His teeth scrape at his pelvis as he tries to get hold of the fabric, eventually biting down on it and wrenching it back to reveal his cock. Kamukura raises his hips a bit to allow him, and Servant didn't let go until he had pulled his boxers down over his thighs.

Kamukura's full length springs free, growing harder by the minute, prodding at his stomach. Servant's eyes might as well have been shimmering, little pink hearts swimming in them, staring at his cock like it was the most wonderful thing he’d ever seen.

Obediently, Servant raises himself up on his knees so he could fit his lips around the head of his cock, struggling for a moment to get it in his mouth without having his hand to lead it there. Kamukura watches placidly as he struggles, his cock rubbing up against Servant's cheek until he manages to wrap his lips around the girth. A small noise of triumph rises in Servant's throat, and he starts bobbing his head slowly, the strong, yet gentle hand in his hair guiding his movements. 

He begins to ease it deeper until it reaches his throat, making him gag on it and swallow around him to prevent choking; the tightening sensation around his cock elicits a small, sharp inhale from Kamukura, and Servant wants to cry out in delight at the presence of a reaction. Instead, though, he breathes carefully through his nose and, spurred forth by that delight, Servant takes him all the way until his length hits the back of his throat, making him moan lowly. 

As if pleased by this, or at least a bit impressed, Kamukura rewards him with light scritches at his scalp, pushing through his white, fluffy hair just behind his ear. Even with his dick stuffed down his throat, Servant can't help but nuzzle against his hand and whine at the pleasant feeling, wishing he could look up at Kamukura from this position with the adoration he felt. 

With a gentle, precise movement, Kamukura rolls his upwards and bucks into the wet heat of Servant's mouth, who does his best to not choke on it. Though he expects Kamukura to start fucking his mouth with that, the man's hips go entirely still, and Servant remembers this was his repentance, his punishment, so he ought to be doing all the work. It must be a sign of impatience from him instead.

With sloppy, wet, filthy noises, Servant starts working his mouth over him quicker, quicker, the flat of his tongue dragging alongside the underside with each stroke. Drool covers his lips, mouth, making a mess of himself and Kamukura, who regards this with a small noise in disgust; he lets this continue for a bit longer before he sharply tugs on his hair again, insistently until he pulls off.

"Servant. You are making a mess."

Servant coughs slightly, unable to wipe the drool covering his mouth. "S-Sorry, sir, nnh...I'm just...it's so _good_ , I really am disgusting."

"If you cannot do this simple task, then I will have to punish you more directly," Kamukura states, and gently pushes Servant back, away from him. Obediently, Servant shuffles backwards on his knees, watching curiously as he brought his own undergarments back up over his hips, and stood up, gesturing to the bed.

"On the bed, pet. Are you able to climb up yourself?"

Servant struggles, but clamors up onto the bed, rolling onto his back, and letting his legs spread almost instinctively, awkwardly resting his tied up arms above his head and looking down at Kamukura; the dark-haired man settled between his legs, tan hands cupping pale thighs and pushing them further apart. He doesn’t bear any expression, still, but he moves with purpose, wasting no time in grabbing the hem of Servant’s plaid, gray boxers, and tugging them down his skinny thighs.

The exposure of cold air on his admittedly sticky cock makes Servant sharply inhale, embarrassed by how needy and _easy_ he was like this. He’s already made a mess of his underwear, though it is not nearly enough relief for the aphrodisiac coursing through him. He has yet to be touched, and it’s driving him insane—his hips squirm a bit as he tries to kick his underwear off, but Kamukura instantly pins his legs to the bed.

“Stop moving.”  
  


“ _Please_ , Kamukura-sama, I _need_ —”

“Be patient.”

An outright whine escapes him, but he obliges, going still other than the tremble in his thighs as Kamukura touches them. Delicately, Kamukura pulls his messy boxers off him and sets them aside. His cock was so hard it _hurt_ , and he aches for just a little bit of touch from Kamukura, now, just anything at all.

That wish is soon granted as Kamukura curls his fingers around his weeping cock, and gives a soft, light stroke, a bead of precum squeezing out the tip. Servant lets out an aching, high-pitched moan, bucking up into his hand almost instantly. In response, Kamukura places his hand on Servant’s hip bone and holds him down, while the other keeps with languid, pleasant strokes. He still can’t help but squirm against his hand, face flushed and wanton noises spilling out of his lips.

"So pretty," Kamukura suddenly says while he dragged his fingers up his cock, pressing the pad of his thumb against the tip and getting it all sticky. Servant felt like he was on fire. "It is so easy to make you fall apart. Predictable, but pleasant nonetheless."

_Huh?_ Kamukura is never this soft and sweet with him, not unless he had been exceptionally good, or for whatever reason Kamukura was in a mood, of sorts. But he had just been angry moments ago, nearly left him alone here just out of disappointment. He didn't deserve this gentleness. He deserves to be used, punished, left without his own pleasure. 

"Hh...Kamukura-sama," he breathes, pleading in his voice. "Don't hold back on filth like me. Please use me as y-you wish, punish me."

"I am," Kamukura responds flatly, giving his length a light squeeze and eliciting a keen out of Servant, “I am using you how I wish.” Preventing Servant from questioning that any further, he smooths his other hand up from his hips, over his side and onto his pale chest, cupping his lithe pectoral and smoothing his thumb over his nipple, rubbing the hardening bud in a circular motion.

Servant’s head is spinning, just a bit, from confronting the fact that Kamukura was apparently using him how he _wishes_ , but he was being frustratingly slow, gentle, _sweet_ , which is entirely uncharacteristic of Kamukura. It was hard to linger on that, though, when his hands were pleasuring him in a way that made it obvious Kamukura knew _exactly_ how to make him unravel.

It was odd, given this was so unlike his usual punishment. Usually, his own pleasure didn’t even come into the punishments—most sessions ended with his cock completely untouched, not even allowed to bring himself to his own end (but at times, Servant would manage to make a mess of his boxers anyways, and then receive punishment for disobeying his command). Kamukura could be quite cruel with him, punishing him in public, humiliating him, testing his endurance; but that was because he knew Servant _liked_ that cruelty.

Servant _didn’t_ like feeling served, when he himself was beneath Kamukura, and should be on his knees beside him at all times, only taking what little he deserves and is graciously given, even less than that. So being treated like this, as if Kamukura was instead worshipping him…

Oh. This _is_ a punishment. 

The aphrodisiac still coursing through him is making this all that more unbearable; he might as well have been in heat, so eager to be fucked until he was spent, but he isn’t even getting that. Not with Kamukura deciding _this_ was an appropriate punishment. And well, it _is_ working, but that doesn’t mean Servant likes it.

"Please," he begs again, scrambling for even a bit of mercy on his neediness. "Please, please…just fuck me, sir, _please_."

In response, Kamukura pinches his nipple roughly, eliciting a loud whine out of Servant. 

"I know you do not want to be gagged again," he pauses, watching Servant's face contort with pleasure as he stimulates him, "so be quiet. I am not interested in hearing you beg."

"Nnn _nn_ mm."

This is torture. The hand on his chest continues to tweak his nipples so long as it makes him whine, though it didn't last forever. Soon, his fingers were crawling up his chest and around his neck, tipping his head upward. The hand cups his jaw, its opposite still jerking Servant off at an unbearably slow pace, but his thumb swipes across his lips, before pushing between them. He pushes the pad of thumb against Servant's tongue, maintaining eye contact while he pushes the digit deeper, dirtying himself with saliva and forcing him to keep his mouth open, all his filthy noises audible while Kamukura pleasured him.

"Will you come from this? I have seen you come from much less."

Servant simply responds by mumbling pathetic noises against his finger.

"If not yet, I will find a way to bring you to it without giving you the pleasure of my cock. I know that is what you are eager for, and that is why I won't give you it."

In a quick movement, he removes his thumb, and instead presses his two fingers to his lips, forcing them inside with no resistance. His fingers press against his tongue, and Servant eagerly licks and sucks, looking up at Kamukura with desperation as he debauches his fingers. He can’t help himself, wishing something else were there filling his mouth. When Kamukura finally withdraws, fingers slick with spit that trails between them, he removes his other hand from where it had been steadily stroking him, and instead spreads his thighs as wide as they can go. He grips beneath his knee and pushes him so his hips are raised, and presses his wet fingers there, teasing his twitching hole.

He makes it agonizingly slow, as he had been this entire time, circling around his entrance and watching as Servant twitches and squirms, unable to buck his hips up and force his fingers in. If Servant didn’t already know that he can’t _feel that_ , he might think Kamukura was getting some sort of satisfaction out of tormenting him like this. 

When he finally pushes the tip of his finger past the tight ring of muscle, Servant throws his head back and _whines_ so pathetically that his voice cracks. His finger sinks in with ease, all the way down to the knuckle, and the second one soon follows; it was tight, given that spit was not a wonderful replacement for lube, but Servant didn’t mind, he prefers it really. It gives him a bit of pain, and he always deserved pain.

Kamukura’s fingers curl in the tight heat, rubbing against his walls and thrusting shallowly, slowly, the intent to unravel Servant from the inside out until he’s a mess beneath his fingers. His expression shows disinterest, but his eyes don’t move from his face, watching it twist up in denied gratification while he fucks him with his fingers. His movements remain gentle, but precise; he would rub against his prostate once, igniting fire from within, before just _barely_ missing that sensitive spot on every thrust after, driving him insane. Servant _knows_ it’s on purpose, because Kamukura has, at this point, committed every corner, every detail of his body to perfect memory, just as he did every bit of information he absorbed. 

It leaves Servant writhing, mewls and whimpers in his mouth, dripping in desperation. He clenches his fists where they were bound, resting them against his own chest, thighs trembling while Kamukura keeps them forced apart. Everything Kamukura does is _perfect_ , with the expertise of someone who had been doing whatever it was their entire life—but that expertise was artificial, his mind wired to simply be _ultimate_ at everything, anything, able to learn perfection in a moment’s time.

There were no complaints about this, certainly not from Servant. He could never tire of Kamukura, nor anything he did to him; every little action from Kamukura filled him with pure, unbridled hope, as did every moment that he was allowed to be in his presence. He knew he was in love from the moment he’d witnessed his beauty, even if it had been at the other end of his gun.

He can’t linger in this adoration for much longer however, pulled from his thoughts when Kamukura’s head ducks down, watching his God fall to his haunches beside the bed and rest there, a sudden wetness enveloping his cock. Kamukura _never_ does this, not unless Servant was exceptionally good and on top of that, _lucky_ ; and that was because Servant didn’t _want_ him to, he didn’t want to feel like he was being served. Not by Kamukura. He could never deserve that, not in a million years. So it’s to his utter surprise when the Ultimate Hope’s lips wrap around his dick and his tongue starts teasing him, bobbing slowly.

“Kamukura-sama…!” It’s more of a gasp than it is speaking, throwing his head back and thrashing, his back arching off the bed and involuntarily thrusting up into Kamukura’s mouth. He wishes he would pull away and smack him for such an unseemly action, wishes he would hold him down and use him instead, rather than sit here and pleasure Servant when he was utterly _undeserving_. 

“Oh, _oh-_ ” There’s a keening choke in his throat when Kamukura elects to silencing him by thrusting his two fingers against his prostate, and not moving away this time. “Kamukura-sama, ah, I-” Suddenly, Servant is aware of a heat coiling up in his stomach like rough rope, knotting in on itself and being pulled taut until it’ll inevitably fray and _snap_. “Please, I can’t-”

In a quick movement, absolutely no struggle on Kamukura’s end, he swallows Servant’s length down his throat in its entirety, and Servant bangs his head back against the sheets, his toes curling around the edge of the bed.

“I don’t deserve this, please, pl-please…”

Despite his pleas, Kamukura doesn’t relent, and keeps working him to the edge. Servant knows he won’t last, not with how skilled Kamukura is at everything he does.

“I- ahh,” Servant chokes, his voice cracking on pleasure. He feels himself almost despair at the fact that he’s doing _nothing_ for Kamukura, but instead is being served. It is utterly _wrong_ , it’s not how it’s supposed to be. These positions should be reversed, for all but the ropes on his wrists, with Kamukura fucking his mouth until he’s pleased.

The sensations begin to overwhelm him, and as if he can’t get any worse than he is, Kamukura pulls his mouth off and looks up at him with boring, red eyes.

“Do not hold back,” he tells him, and thrusts his fingers particularly harshly inside him, making him cry out. “I wish for you cum in my mouth. Is that understood?”

Knowing Servant _can’t_ disobey, Kamukura doesn’t wait for an answer, dives back down, taking his cock back in his mouth, all the way down his throat in an instant, his nose pressing against the few silver-y curls at its base. The pace of his fingers becomes brutal, fucking him hard, but still favoring pleasure as he slams his fingers in an angle to target his sensitive spot with every thrust. 

His moans become nothing more than short cries, a chorus of broken “ _oh, oh, oh_ ”, and crackly whimpers and cries the closer he gets, his voice squeaking unpleasantly. He quivers like a string being plucked ruthlessly, his skinny frame trembling so much that it might be concerning. Heat shoots through his veins and covers him like a cold sweat, and suddenly he _snaps_ . His back arches painfully high off the bed, his hips bucking involuntarily into Kamukura’s mouth as he hits his end, _hard_. 

Kamukura feels him unravel when a wet heat fills his mouth and throat, and a tightening sensation around his fingers; his eyes flick up to watch Servant’s face scrunch up in pleasure as he meets his end. Slowly, he pulls off, not a trace of mess between them as he swallows visibly.

Servant goes limp, suddenly, after the initial electric shock pulses through him, and collapses into the sheets like it could swallow him whole. His chest heaves and he pants heavily, forearms slumped against his chest and his face a pink, drool-covered mess. Kamukura simply wipes his mouth, standing upright and looking down at him, while tugging his own pants back up and fastening them, despite the still-present bulge.

The look in Servant’s eyes is hazy and incoherent, but he just manages to glance down and take note of what he’s doing. He makes a mumbling noise that’s supposed to be words, sounds vaguely like his name. Kamukura seems to understand anyway.

“I do not care,” he says simply. “It does not matter to me if I get off. Your punishment is done, anyways.” 

“Hhhnn…”

Servant can’t make words, still, but he feels vaguely like he might despair; it’s so wrong for him to be purely on the receiving end, he has never felt less worthy of the position he’s in. When Kamukura reaches up and undoes his binds with delicate hands, and proceeds to rub at the chafing on his wrists, he feels like he’s died and gone to heaven. Or perhaps this is the calm before the storm, an unforeseeable amount of good luck preceding bad, and he should really watch out for himself come tomorrow. 

“You seem tired,” Kamukura notes, dropping his hands gently onto the bed, and instead setting tanned hands on his hips, shuffling his otherwise limp body over a little to properly lie on the bed. Servant manages to shift himself up as well, just a bit, and rest his head on the pillow. He looks up at Kamukura expectantly.

Kamukura turns and blows out one of the few candles lying on a nearby cabinet.

“Kamukura-sama…” he begins, and trails off with uncertainty in his chest. It’s hard to figure out how he feels, because that treatment made him feel so uneasy, yet at the same time, that uneasiness was double-sided. It was something he had never felt before, either.

Another.

“I don’t deserve how you’ve treated me…”

One more candle left. It flickers against the walls, casting shapes against Kamukura’s face when he turns to look at him briefly.

“...but thank you.”

Kamukura blinks, his eyes drifting from Servant to the wall where the flame’s light dances. He is unreadable as always, stoic.

“It is not something to thank me for,” he states, picking up the bare candle despite its heat. 

Servant panics a bit, his heart swelling with adoration and love. He has confessed many times, spilled his heart out and rambled and gushed about Kamukura, but the words feel caught in his throat suddenly. “Kamukura-sama, I…”

“I know.”

He blows out the final candle, and moments later, Servant feels a dip in the bed beside him. Instinctively, he shuffles toward him, and loops his arms around Kamukura’s waist, feels the man half-heartedly drape an arm over his shoulders when he does.

He knows. Of course he did. Servant had said it enough ever since their first meeting. It eased the burden of croaking those words out when it felt difficult.

Content, he buries his face in Kamukura’s chest, curling up in content, clinging to him like a pillow, a source of comfort.

He never wants to lose Kamukura. Even if he didn’t deserve to have him like he did, he never feels happier, nor luckier, than when in his arms.


End file.
